On The Ropes Series Box Set

by Aly Martinez

  After setting the bag of food on a small side table, I found the remote and pulled up the latest season of Project Runway. It was our go-to show and one of the few programs Eliza and I agreed on. She loved the artistic aspect of it, while I was enthralled with the fashion.

  Eliza and I had a funny relationship. She was twelve years older than I was, and for all intents and purposes, she was Quarry’s mom. But she was also a lot of fun. When I was growing up, she had always been friendly with me, but it wasn’t until Ash had entered the picture that we’d really become friends. Ash and I had clicked right away, and eventually, she’d pulled Eliza into our fold.

  The three of us planned monthly girls’ nights together, and in addition to weekly Page family dinners, we also did lunch once a week.

  So, needless to say, I felt completely at home as I fluffed a pillow then dragged the blanket off the back of the futon as I waited for her to join me.

  Tim Gunn was still giving the contestants their assignments when she made her way into the room.

  “Why do I always think drinking is a good idea?” She grabbed the bag of biscuits and settled on the couch.

  Catching the greasy sandwich she’d tossed my way, I replied, “No clue. However, I can promise you my drinking days are over after last night.”

  “We said that after the Gala last year, too.” She nibbled on a hash brown, curled her lip, and then continued to eat. “Wait. You guys went home early. What happened after you left?”

  My stomach rolled. Though it had nothing to do with my hangover and everything to do with the memories of the night before flooding my brain.

  They were the same memories that had had me sneaking out of my own apartment at the crack of dawn in order to avoid Quarry.

  The question should have been: What didn’t happen last night?

  Drink too many beers. Check.

  Flirt with my best friend. Check.

  More drinking and then more flirting. Check. Check.

  Tell him that I used to obsess over him until he runs from the house just to shut me up. Check.

  Crawl into his bed in the middle of the night. Check.

  Wake him up by groping his dick. Check.

  Get kicked out of his room like a fangirl who, well…snuck into his room and grabbed his junk. Check.

  Needing a cold shower each time I thought about it. Mother. Fucking. Check.

  I kept that parade of embarrassment to myself.

  “Oh, we just had some beers at the apartment.” I shrugged, turning my attention back to the TV, but my mind refused to budge from the whole Quarry thing.

  “That sounds better than my night. I think I passed out on the limo ride home.” Eliza picked an errant biscuit crumb off the blanket.

  “Meh. Could have been worse.”

  “At the risk of skeeving you out, I think I was…um…on top of Till when it happened.”

  My eyes flared wide.

  She closed her eyes and nodded, embarrassed.

  I attempted to hide my laugh but failed. I mentally prepared a hey-no-big-deal-you-passed-out-in-the-middle-of-sex speech when Ash saved me the trouble as she came crawling through the window.

  “You were on top of Till when what happened?” she asked.

  “Shit,” Eliza mumbled. “I, uh…may have passed out.”

  “Jeebus! On the way there and home? I’d say Till got his money’s worth out of that limo,” Ash teased, flopping down at the foot of the futon.

  “So, how was your night?” I asked, grabbing the bag of food from Eliza and throwing it down to Ash.

  “Really good. I managed to stay awake and everything.” She winked at Eliza. “I’m so freaking tired though. Flint got me up after only two hours of sleep to come get the boys. I love my babies, but today is going to kill me. I need a night away to recover from my night away.”

  “We’re having a hangover party. You can nap here if you want,” Eliza said.

  “Nah. Thanks though. We’re gonna take the boys to that new park by the house.”

  Till poked his head through the window. “Okay, ladies. Bad news. We’re out of coffee. But Quarry’s on his way over. He said he’d pick up Starbucks.”

  Noooooo! my mind screamed.

  When I felt all of their eyes land on me, I realized my mouth had screamed it too.

  “Something against Starbucks?” Till asked.

  “I’m just…not a fan.”

  I touched your brother’s penis, and now, I’m scared he’s going to want to talk about it.

  “Seriously?” Eliza gasped.

  Dear God, please don’t let me have said that out loud too.

  “You drink it all the time.”

  Thank you, baby Jesus. “Yeah. I’m just sick of it. That’s all. It’s fine though. Really. Q knows my order.” I relaxed once they’d seemed to buy it.

  “You got any soda? I need a barrel if I’m going to survive today,” Ash said, discarding her biscuit and moving Till’s way.

  “I’m not sure about a barrel, but I have at least one in the outside fridge,” he replied, helping her through the window.

  Two of her fingers shot back through the opening. “Peace out, ladies.”

  We called after her.

  “Bye.”

  “Later.”

  Then Eliza turned her attention my way. “Are you sure everything’s okay? You seem…weirder than usual.”

  “Weirder than usual? That’s exactly what I was going for this morning.”

  “I just mean…”

  “I know, I know. I’m exhausted. That’s all. I’m gonna nap until the coffee arrives. Then I’m going to drink it and then nap some more.”

  She gave me the side eye but let it go.

  I was acting weirder than usual, but that was only the tip of the iceberg for what was going on inside me.

  We watched Project Runway for about five minutes until Eliza dozed off. If I’d known that Quarry would be up so early, I would have stayed locked in my room, pretending to sleep, while I paced my room all day. I loved a lazy hangover party as much as the next girl, but the real reason I was there was to collect my thoughts before I had to face him.

  My mind raced with explanations for the night before, but it was sleep that finally won out.

  * * *

  I was sound asleep when the futon disappeared from under me. “Shit.” I flailed, trying to catch myself before hitting the ground.

  “Shhh,” Quarry whispered, holding me cradled in his arms.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, my voice thick with sleep.

  He tipped his head to the side and gave me an impatient glare. “Shh!” He jutted his chin toward Eliza, who was softly snoring on the couch.

  “Put me down. I can walk.”

  He didn’t listen. Instead, he carried me to the window and carefully guided me back into Till and Eliza’s bedroom. After folding his large body through, he caught my hand and dragged me down the hall to his old bedroom.

  He hadn’t lived there in over six years, but it still looked like eighteen-year old Quarry would be coming back at any moment. Posters lined the walls, and boxing trophies and medals covered the rest. Two oak nightstands framed a queen-sized bed covered by a midnight-blue comforter. A single photo of Quarry, Mia, and me at Flint and Ash’s wedding graced the dresser.

  I was lost in nostalgia until I heard the door shut.

  “I went to check on you this morning, but you were already gone. What the hell are you doing over here so early?” he asked roughly.

  “Uhh, Eliza and I made a date last night for a hangover party.”

  His lips twisted in disbelief. “At six in the morning?”

  “What? I had to stop and get breakfast.”

  “For two hours?” He arched an angry eyebrow. “Till told me you got here at eight.”

  Note to self: When trying to escape Quarry Page, do not run to his brother’s house for refuge.

  “I…I wasn’t sure what I wanted to eat, so I drove around until som
ething sounded good.”

  “Right.” He thrust a hand into his hair but stared down at the floor. “Listen, we need to talk about last night.”

  Fantastic. He wasn’t going to beat around the bush. I guessed now was as good a time as any.

  I quickly started before I had to hear his explanation. “I’m really sorry. I guess I got a little handsy. I fell asleep listening to ‘Pony.’ I must have had Channing Tatum on the brain.”

  His gaze lifted to mine, and the strangest tinge of disappointment showed in his eyes.

  “Channing Tatum, huh?” His hands fisted on his hips.

  “I don’t know. I don’t really remember. It could have been Chris Hemsworth, I suppose. I mean, if I was willing to grab your junk, it might have been a kinky combination of the two.” I shrugged.

  Shaking his head, he began to pace the room. “Wow. Thanks.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Is that all you remember?”

  Funny enough, no. It was just all I was willing to acknowledge. The rest…

  God. The rest.

  Those callused fingers of his gliding deliciously between my legs.

  Or maybe he was asking about the part where he so skillfully rolled my nipple that it felt as if he had found a direct line to my clit—a few minutes more and I could have come from that alone.

  Or perhaps, just perhaps, he was asking about the way he’d pushed his long finger so deep inside me that I would have happily kicked any combination of men in the world out a window just to experience it with him again.

  If that was what he meant, then my answer should have been: I can’t fucking forget it!

  Blinking in mock confusion, I said, “Why? Did something else happen?”

  He laughed without humor. “Yeah. Liv. Something else happened.”

  After sucking in a deep breath, he held it as he sank down on the corner of the bed. With a fast exhale through his nose, he rushed out, “I guess I was dreaming about someone or whatever too.”

  Uh huh. Mia.

  “Really?” I breathed in fake disbelief.

  Dropping his head into his hands, he continued. “Fuck, I don’t know what to say here. I just remember waking up—” He chewed on his bottom lip. “My hand…was in your pants and your shirt was pushed up. I’m sorry. I guess I’m not used to sleeping with anyone else.”

  Since Mia. Yeah. I got that last night when you kicked me out of your room.

  I laughed loudly, spinning toward a group of trophies. My vision swam as I pretended to read the inscription on each one.

  “Shit. I kinda wish I did remember that. Most action I’ve had in forever,” I squeaked out around the lump in my throat.

  “I’m serious, Rocky. It was seriously fucked up. I’m so sorry.” His voice shook.

  My chin quivered.

  It was seriously fucked up.

  But that wasn’t his fault.

  “It’s no big deal, Q. Stop apologizing. I’ll make sure I don’t drunkenly find my way to your bed again. We should be good.”

  I felt him at my back, but I didn’t dare turn to look at him.

  In a thick, jagged voice, he said, “About that. We need to talk.”

  Actually, that was exactly what we did not need to do. I needed to get the hell out of that room. Sleep for a week. Maybe take a vacation…to Antarctica. Where I could figure out how to get my head straight on what exactly had happened in his bed.

  And then figure out how to turn it off.

  My Quarry Page switch had been in the off position since the day I’d met Mia. But one night with his hands on me and that switch hadn’t just been flipped—it’d been uninstalled. I had successfully harbored over a decade of feelings for Quarry, and last night, that dam had been broken, emotionally flooding me to the point of insanity.

  I was not built to feel that much. Not all at once.

  Definitely not for him.

  And especially not when he was dreaming I was her.

  I moved backward as I spun. He didn’t budge as I hid my face in his back and wrapped my arms around his waist. My heart sputtered at the contact and then shattered when it slowed.

  “Stop freaking out. It’s fine. It was just a little grab-ass. I should be the one apologizing for all the crap I said last night. Let’s just say there’s a reason the government will never trust me with national secrets. Two drinks and I’d spill it all.”

  “That was the fun part.” He laughed.

  Oh goodie. That had been the fun part.

  Stepping away, I pasted on a million-dollar smile. “It’s all good. So stop being weird and point me to my coffee. I’m dying!”

  He sighed and reluctantly mumbled, “It’s in the kitchen.”

  I slapped him on the shoulder as I hauled ass out of that room.

  I didn’t go to the kitchen.

  I went to the bathroom.

  I didn’t cry.

  I wept.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Quarry

  EVERY MORNING WHEN I’D WAKE up, I would swear to myself that it was going to be the day I finally talked to Liv about how I felt.

  Three weeks later, I was still telling myself that lie.

  My job was to fearlessly step into the ring with giants and dodge their merciless fists while attempting to level them with my own. But, somehow, talking to five-foot-seven, one-hundred-and-twenty-five-pound Liv seemed more terrifying.

  Although it wasn’t like I got many chances. Liv had started avoiding me. It was subtle at first. But, as the weeks passed, I saw her less and less. Her work nights had started running later. She hung out with Eliza and Ash more than ever before. And, when I had to fly to LA for a few nights, she suddenly couldn’t make it, even though she had found an assistant to cover her. It was hard to tell if I was just being hypersensitive and reading into her every move or if she really was pulling away.

  She still packed my lunch, answered my e-mails, and texted me occasionally throughout the day, but it was different. The levity that usually surrounded us had faded. Sitting in uncomfortable silence became our new norm on the nights she was home.

  Together—completely alone.

  We were all at Till’s the night my fight against Davenport had been announced. Liv was usually the first person jumping up and down, hugging me, and then ranting at whichever ESPN sportscaster had predicted I might lose. But, that night, she sat in Till’s recliner across the room and signed, I’m so proud of you.

  My family was shouting and cheering in celebration as clips of me flashed across the screen. But I couldn’t tear my eyes off her. I held my breath as I searched her big, brown doe eyes, knowing I was only one exhale away from a breakdown.

  I wanted that woman more than I wanted any title in the world, but I was losing her.

  And I didn’t have a clue why.

  I knew that the way I felt was going to change things between us. But she didn’t even know yet. I couldn’t take it back or swear to her that we could go back to being friends.

  I couldn’t do anything at all to fix us.

  Several times since that night in my bed, I’d attempted to talk to her about it. She would make jokes and dismiss it as no big deal. I often replayed those moments with her writhing under my touch, but I would have gladly erased them from both of our memories if we could have just gone back to the way things had been.

  Eventually, things got so strained that I started avoiding her too. I didn’t want to see her bright smile aimed at me when I got home, not when her eyes held such emptiness. I didn’t want to sit on my couch night after night while she hid in her room, claiming she was tired—at six p.m. I didn’t want to go to Till and Eliza’s for dinner, where Liv would flitter around the room like the woman I so desperately missed only to have her mood shift so drastically when her attention would swing my way.

  I couldn’t swallow those moments anymore. They were acid to my soul, secretly devouring me from the inside out.

  Unlike Liv, I wasn’t doing such a stellar job at hiding my problems.
With a title fight only months away, I was pushing my body to the limits. My mind just wouldn’t follow. Till and Slate had both been riding my ass about my head not being in the ring, but I was falling apart. I’d taken punches that never should have touched me during training, and if Davenport had thrown them, I would have landed flat on the mat.

  I couldn’t stop thinking about her.

  Nor could I figure out a way to get her back.

  Without her, for the first time in my entire life, I was truly trapped in the solitude of my mind—alone.

  It was past eleven as I shadow-boxed in the ring. The gym was empty. Till had left hours earlier instructing me to lock up when I left, but I didn’t have anywhere to go. Alone was alone everywhere. At least, at the gym, I could distract myself from the flames in my chest.

  Jab.

  Duck.

  Jab.

  Duck.

  Jab.

  “Shit!” I yelled as Liv suddenly stepped in front of me.

  “What are you doing?” Her mouth moved with her hands because she knew I didn’t wear my hearing aids in the gym.

  I dropped my hands. “Well, hello to you too. What are you doing here?”

  “I was driving home from work and saw your car. It’s late.”

  I briefly swept my eyes over her. She must have taken her shoes off outside the ring to keep from damaging the mat, but she was still in the same short, turquoise dress she’d been wearing that morning. It was sexy as hell. Probably yet another reason I hadn’t wanted to head home.

  “Big fight. Long hours,” I stated, unraveling the wraps on my hands.

  “Come on. Let’s go home. Long hours mean you need more sleep.”

  “Nah. I’m good,” I replied. “I’ll see you in the morning.” I ended the conversation by giving her my back.

  Much to my surprise, and my disappointment, she left.